hadn't been-something wfofig with me I'd never have looked
at him. Then he cried, not because I was quitting him, but
because I knew what he was like inside. I told him some
day a horse would guess what he was like inside, and would
She stopped and looked across the room at him. He was
lying back on the bed, on his back, with his arms under his
head. He gave no sign that he had noticed the cessation of
"A horse killed him," she said. "Threw him and killed
him. I read it in the paper, after I came back here. I didn't
even recognize his name at first, everything seemed so differ-
ent then." She paused, as though searching her mind. " His
, name was Emory Olivers," she said. Then; "Why I'm
" It doesn't matter," Mr. Munn said. " Now."
" It was different when I got home," she resumed, ignoring
him. "With papa. It was all right then. I didn't think
much about anything. I was just wrapped up in being a sort
of way I'd never been, not since I was a little girl. It was even
all right when Benton Todd started to come around-----"
"You ought to have married him," Mr. Munn said, still
looking at the shadowy ceiling.
"He was a child," she returned. "Nothing but a child."
" If you'd married him, he'd be here, today," he declared.
Then added, with a distant and judicial tone; " Alive,"
" You've got no right to say that."
"Yes," he said. "Alive."
"Nobody can say; there's nothing to say about a thing
like that," she rejoined. Her hands moved again in her lap,
folding and unfolding, then stopped. "He's dead," she
"So's that English fellow," he reminded her, "that
Chivers." She made no answer, and for a little while he
seemed sunk in meditation before he said, "You told him
what he was."
"He was that way, nobody made him that way-----"